


god help and forgive me (i wanna build something that's gonna outlive me)

by myillusionsgone



Series: where we emphasize the importance of good teachers [2]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myillusionsgone/pseuds/myillusionsgone
Summary: She is spinning around, quickly, quickly, as she is falling and she wonders where she will land, in the end. Ur has never been a coward, but there are things beyond bravery.
Relationships: Silver Fullbuster/Ur, Ur & Ultear Milkovich
Series: where we emphasize the importance of good teachers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567756
Kudos: 9





	1. i.

**\- X767 -**

The wind was unnaturally cold, the woman noted as she walked through the ruins, dark eyes flickering like twin flames. To most others, there would not have been much to see — the place had been destroyed three days ago and by now, there was not much left. The council had come quickly, had boxed up what they could get their hands on, had handcuffed the staff carted them off to Era where they were currently awaiting their trial. What was left was a carcass that had been picked clean, but as ice and glass alike crunched under her boots, the sole observer smiled. She recognised the handwriting this had — could read the way the attack that had devastated the faculty had seemingly come from the inside, could almost taste the magic that had been used in the air . . . it was familiar. Very familiar.

No, he had never been subtle. She almost scoffed as she peeked into what had likely been an office, three days ago. She could almost still see if — the shelves filled with neatly ordered folders, the imposing desk . . . now, all that was telling the story of what happened was the coffee mug that had fallen over and that had been frozen midfall. Showoff.

"Milkovich-sama."

She only turned her head a little, just enough to indicate that she heard the council member's approach. They had not let her come alone, had cited that she was technically still a civilian and that this was a restricted area. "Yes?" she asked quietly. She would have to do better, she knew, she would have to start learning names if she was to walk this icy road that could lead her anywhere and nowhere.

The woman in the doorway looked miserable as she stood there, shivering. "There is something else you should see," she said, rubbing her gloved hands together for some warmth amidst this hellish cold. "It's why you were permitted to come here before — everything's official."

 _Official_. Ur Milkovich had come to abhor the word in those last three days. She had not wanted the title and all it brought. She had been happy in her cottage in the high north, a place so unwelcoming that it kept most from even considering to visit her. But that had been in what felt like another life entirely — before Ultear had fallen sick. Before she had been brought to this very facility. Before a certain someone had turned this place into a ruin and— 

She refused to call it a kidnapping, especially in the light of what had been uncovered in these last three days. And could a father kidnap his daughter from the people who had had very intention to turn her into a human weapon as confiscated internal memos had shown? Ur did not think so.

Still — she worried as she nodded quietly and followed her guide through the rubble. She worried because Ultear had been sick, _so very sick_ , last she had seen her. She worried because she had been at her wit's end, and her daughter's father . . . he had never been around before. As grateful as she was that he had stepped in before anything irreversible had happened to her daughter, she was not that quick to forgive.

"It is cold," she stated calmly, her own hands shoved deep into her pockets. It was not a sentence anyone would expect of her, least of all herself. Since she had been a teenager, she had not felt bothered by the cold. To wield her magic successfully, she had to be able to ignore the way it made her joints feel all stiff if she used it for too long. She had gotten good at tuning out discomfort. _Too good_ , some had kept insisting. But this cold was neither natural nor was it the familiar cold that accompanied her own magic.

Had she too describe how she felt, in this instant — she would not be able to. She felt too much, was overwhelmed by all the (partly contradictory) feelings that were trying to claim a part of her at the same time. But somewhere, there was relief. It was buried deep, under the fear she felt for her daughter, but it was there — like a crocus pushing through the snow.

The woman, barely visible under her hood, seemed to nod. "Yes, ma'am," she agreed and the ice mage had to hold back a groan. She never would have expected it, but she was almost missing people who disagreed with her. The almost blind agreement she had been receiving the past two days was not sitting well with her.

Stepping into a room Ur thought she almost recognised, she knew what she was supposed to take a look at before the other woman could direct her attention at it. Of course, you fool, she thought almost fondly before she stopped herself. That after years, he had finally stepped up to the responsibility of being a father did not excuse that he had left her, pregnant and afraid. Very afraid.

"I hope this isn't the part where you tell me that I'm a suspect," she said slowly, her voice almost a drawl as she banished all emotions from her face.

The rune knights stationed in the room swapped a gaze — almost panicked, almost afraid — before they hastily shook their heads, and with a sigh, she realised she pitied them. They were only doing their job, they were not poking old wounds on purpose. And it was not their fault that the entire place was a single punch to her badly mended heart.

"No, no," one of them insisted as he lifted his hands — universal gesture of surrender, only that it made her sad right now. "We, uh, recognise a bad . . . copy of your skill."

Given the nature of her magic and her love for flowers, she had seen many ice flowers in the past. It was something she was known for, even, and it had been a long time since she had kept count of how many she had spun from ice — sometimes dainty, sometimes as hard as diamond but always with care. The rose she was looking at seemed to be rushed, but she would recognise this style anywhere.

The ice under the other woman's boots whined as she shifted and despite the biting cold around them, there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead. "We think this is a message. For you," she said slowly.

Ur nodded, not trusting her voice. "It's been received," she said as straightened her shoulders and met the rune knights' eyes. Her bravado was but a facade, frail and easily shattered, she realised as panic clawed at her throat. "I won't — I can't—!"

"Oh no," the other woman said, blue eyes widening, "we know this is a difficult time for you, we just . . . you are the . . . newest wizard saint, this is a gesture of goodwill."

Goodwill. Ur did not believe in the council's goodwill, but she would not argue --- this was the first break she was catching in a while, and she was not going to deny it herself. There was a time and a place to argue about principles, but it had been a long day for her and she was certain that any moment now, her carefully maintained composure would shatter and all she was holding onto so desperately (fear, frustration, hopefulness) would spill everywhere.

It was almost as if she was underwater when she heard another question --- what she would do next, what she would do after she was officially named a wizard saint. "I think," she said as she turned away from the rose, away how offensively obvious it was, "I think I will join a guild, after all."

When she had been younger than she was now, she had never really thought about the possibility. Too rooted had she been in the place she called home, too focused had she been on her studies and her research. She had never been interested in the work guild mages did, had kept working on the magic she had invented. But when she had not been looking, the world had been turned upside down. And ultimately, Ur could be unpredictable, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**\- X769 -**

Life in Magnolia tasted too sweet, reminded Ur of the foul sweetness of rotting fruit. It felt like an endless summer day that seemed perfect at first glance, only that little by little its ugly side was revealed and ultimately, someone would be found floating facedown in the swimming pool. She was on edge, she always was on edge.

It did not help that she had a hard time connecting to any of the other mages. Many of them were younger than her, some downright questioned her motives for joining their guild ( the council had not asked her to investigate but if they had, she would understand why ) and then there were some who insisted that no matter how strong she was, she would never have been a match for Gildarts Clive, the perhaps most famous fairy who had left the guild a while ago.

Fellow wizard saint and guildmaster Makarov had suggested that she might want to talk to his son — "after all, you understand best what it's like to have a sick child" — but Ur had only shook her head. This would be a bad idea, and she was almost shocked that Makarov did not recognise this. The thought that maybe, he did not recognise it because he did not care enough to see — that was even more shocking.

And as it stood, she did not _need_ the family Makarov claimed his guild to be; she **had** a family. She had a husband and a daughter who were _somewhere_ doing _something_. What she needed, what she **wanted** was information. Information about incidents that, to someone as apt at reading between the lines as her, would give away Silver's current location.

She was still undecided what she would do if she knew where they were, whether she would drop everything to go to them or if she could bring herself to remain in Magnolia, but she did not have to make that decision just yet. Silver was good at keeping a low profile, though it was doubtful he was even still in the country. She had been able to talk the council out of searching him for the kidnapping of their daughter, but he was still a wanted man for destroying the research institute.

Not that she could blame him. If anything, she was grateful that he had taken action, that he had spirited Ultear away. Whenever the council came knocking to ask her if she really did not know where her husband was, she was even glad that he had not been in contact. She was not overly attached to her position as a wizard saint, but eventually reuniting with her family would be much harder if she was in prison for keeping crucial information from law enforcement.

Thus, she kept her head low, truthfully told the council that no, her husband had not contacted her, and kept her hands clenched to fists in her pockets. She was angry, the entire situation displeased her and she missed her family dearly. ( She had thought she was used to missing Silver, but it seemed that she had been wrong there. ) But just being angry would not solve anything, and there were too many things that needed solving for her not to throw herself into her work.

Ice Make magic was her creation, was a magic that should know her better than anything else, but she did not think her own magic could have expected the ferocity with which she sought to coac more and more from it, seeking new ways to shape the ice, new ways to push the limits. It helped, as long as she was working and training, it did not matter if she was in sticky sweet Magnolia or back home where the air was minty cold and she felt calm.

In a sad way, she could see the same inherent hilarity in this that Makarov had seen, too. She had brought forth an entirely new type of magic. And not just that, she had specialised it enough that it could be split into multiple schools. But — she did not have students. This was what the council meant when they said that her might was largely an _unfulfilled promise_ ; unless she changed her mind about accepting students, she would take the secrets of her magic to her grave.

This was nothing she _planned_ to do, but finding a student ( let alone three students ) was difficult. She had tried to teach Silver, had _possibly_ managed to get some of the basics into his head between his complaints that she was ruining his magic with her creative approach, but she had never met a mage she had looked at and found a good match — for both her and her magic. She was the one who had made this application of moulding magic possible, of course she did not want to teach just anyone.

Had things come differently, had Ultear not fallen ill, she would have loved to teach her daughter. She would have loved to let Ultear choose which of the styles suited her best, she would have loved to see excitement glow in the dark eyes that were so much like her own the moment the first spell was tugging on her magic

Sometimes, she heard of parents who were worried about their children growing up and no longer needing them. Ur ( and she supposed that Ivan Dreyar would agree with her there ) knew far too well what it was like to fear that her child would never grow up because illness tore them out of their life far too early. All she had ever wanted was for Ultear to stand on her own two feet, for her to walk her own path. As far as she was concerned, this should be a parent's goal.

Tying her hair together, she closed her notebooks and stood. If she wanted to see her family again, if she wanted to hold Ultear again and apologise for endangering her despite her own intentions, she had to stay alive. And the only way to stay alive was by staying strong. Early as it was, the training areas should all be vacant and she could get a head start before departing on a quest, later.

( Silver might laugh and call her an overachiever, but if anything, she was an overachiever with a plan. )


End file.
